Seventh Sunday Peterick
by DearGravity
Summary: Based off the song A Little Less "16 Candles", A Little More "Touch Me" by Fall Out Boy. Patrick tries to calm down a vampire Pete and Pete realizes that he needs Patrick more than either of them know.
1. Chapter 1

"How cruel is the golden rule?

When the lives we lived are only golden plated…"

Immortality.

I contemplate this every night I lay my head on Pete's chest and don't hear a heartbeat.

Every night I eat in front of him and all he does is smile and take a sip of the vile mix I have to fix up for him to keep him sane.

And every night a new pair of pinpricks appear on my neck, a light reminder of my fate someday, and how cavalierly Pete and I cross lines.

Immortality really isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Chapter One-

I stuff everything I can think of into a blender while Pete sleeps in a daze on the pool table. Nail polish, onions, lettuce, tomatoes, chocolate syrup, and a few crushed Benzedrine spansules. I cut the tip off one of Pete's sticks of eyeliner like it's a carrot or a cucumber. I toss it into the foul-smelling blend in the blender. I throw in a bass pick for good measure and note that now I have to put it on high to crush all this up. Hey, why not throw everything in, you know? It's not like it can kill him.

"Crap."

I whisper and put the lid on the blender.

"Well, this'll be his wake-up call."

I wince and turn it on. Pete sticks to the ceiling. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"GAH!"

Pete eases out of sitting bolt upright. He shakes his arms out and flips his head so his hair comes to rest over one eye.

"Sorry!"

I yell over the machinated din of the old blender. I have one hand on the lid and both eyes on Pete, trying to assess his mood. Trying to tell if today is one of those days where I'll have to go get Joe and Andy to restrain Pete and his thirst.

"Try this."

I say and cut the motor. I pour the horrid-smelling liquid into a cup and offer it to Pete. He warily jumps down from the pool table to oblige. He flips his hood up to cover his hair in one smooth motion, not even needing to check a mirror to see if he'd done it right. Pete sniffs the mixture and grimaces, his black-nailed hand tightening so hard around the glass that it cracks. His teeth are barely concealed through his lips and I know he's losing it. I shoot Pete a warning glance and he quickly empties the glass, trying hard not to focus on the substance he's consuming. He does a full-body shiver and stands up straight.

"Wow. Trick, I think you found it."

"You mean…?"

I trail off and Pete smiles brilliantly, showing normal teeth and a sunnier disposition.

"Perfect. Now if only I could remember what I put in there."

I smile and blush.

"You will."

Pete sets the glass down and envelops me in a soft, welcoming hug. I can't help it, I bury my face in his shoulder and hug back, wishing it would never end.

See, Pete rarely hugs me. He prefers to snap at me and then apologize halfheartedly later, or curl up in a dark room and not talk to me at all. Pete hasn't gotten accustomed to the Turning yet. He spends every moment when he's not in a good mood trying to plot revenge on the one who Turned him.

I can't imagine what that would be like. All I can surmise is that it must really suck, because there are some days Joe and Andy and I have to stop Pete from trying more inventive ways to kill himself.

I always sit by his side when he's having one of THOSE days (nights too), those days when he has to be strapped down to his bed. Those days when he tosses and turns from a fevered frenzy he works himself into because he can't grasp at what he wants more dearly than anything else- revenge.

Pete's always fully delirious on those days. Despite that fact, I always sit by his bedside as his eyes flutter open and closed, as he drifts in and out of consciousness. I read him poems from Edgar Allen Poe, his favorite poet, and I sing to him. I sing to him with what little talent I have, I sing to keep Pete alive, to keep him sane. Lately, that hasn't been doing the trick. It soothes him only enough to send him into a sleep filled with tortured nightmares. He cries out and moans and sobs and I can't bear it. I push his hair back from his eyes and caress his cheek with my hand, but all that's done lately is just to give him a temporary respite from the screaming.

That's why I did a little research. (All right, I lied. It was a lot. I'm just glad no one ever asks me how much sleep I get.) I researched cures for this disease, this lust for blood, for revenge. I've come up with internet sites that sell silver bullets and wooden stakes made out of wood from famous buildings. I've come up with pictures of Dracula and Edward Cullen from that asinine teen movie, Twilight. I've seen sites that swear by garlic, holy water, and sunlight. Finally, I came upon a few sites that didn't necessarily have it in for Pete, but maybe actually wanted to assist someone in curing or even helping him.

So that's how I ended up with this whole potion thing. The website I'm currently hooked on for my information told me that all the things I should put in the blender should be from where Pete lives and that the blend shouldn't make sense. I figured since Pete's immortal, why not just try every single fucking thing in his house until we found something that worked?

On the third try, I apparently struck gold, also known as the reason Pete's hugging me right now. I step back and blush. I never was all the way accustomed to Pete hugging me.

"I want to help you out there, Patrick. I'm finally in control of my impulses."

Pete grabbed my arm.

"Look, Pete, that's sweet, but we fight people like you. We take them out. I don't know what you'll want to do to us when you see that happen."

"I won't do anything because I'll be right there with you, kicking ass. Remember, it was one of them that turned me, so they're who I have a problem with."

"A vampire fighting against his own kind."

I muse, doubtfully. Pete sidles behind me and wraps his arms around me. His lips are touching my ear, I swear. I blush seven different shades (sequentially) as he whispers

"They are not my own kind."

Chapter Two-

Immortality changed Pete's mentality.

This newfound, ass-kicking brand of no-longer-purgatory immortality.

Skip to the next night when Andy and his girlfriend are making out in the back of his car. Pete and I are hidden away in bushes, Joe too, and we're all clutching net guns. You know, those guns that shoot nets out to capture whatever it is you're out to catch?

It's a half-hour later when Andy and Tessa are practically having sex in the backseat and the boy with the green mohawk and feral eyes tiptoes toward the car.

"He's here!"

Pete whispers urgently to me and I signal Joe. We all stand up abruptly and fire the net guns at the boy who's now walking quietly toward the car, preparing to feed his bloodlust.

The blood fires through my veins and arteries in a rush as I pull the trigger, neatly wrapping the green-mohawked boy in a rope net.

Pete drops his gun and moans. He's gone a day and a half without the mixture, I realize belatedly.

And it's my blood that triggered Pete's loss of control.

"Trick!"

Joe yells and whips a flask at me.

"It's full of your blender shit. Give it to Pete while I stun-gun this mother-"

"THANKS!"

I yell back loudly to cover Joe's obscenity.

"Pete…!"

I call to him. Pete has his head in his hands and is staggering backwards from me.

"Stay away."

He says firmly, his voice now affected by the lisp produced by his fangs.

"Throw it to me."

He says, still firmly, motioning his hand to me and not breathing in any more of my scent. I chuck the flask at Pete and he chugs the thing. I shudder watching him, thinking about what I put in there.

"It's okay now."

He hisses out a breath, addressing all three of us.

"I'll be okay for a few hours, but we should probably get back so Trick can make me some more of this shit and be able to save my ass again sometime."

"That was Joe who just saved your ass."

Andy had emerged from the car.

"It's not important."

I say, mentally kicking myself.

"That shouldn't have happened, Pete."

I shake my head, Pete's puzzled.

"I should've given you more. I should have kept you supplied, it's my fault."

"It's not your fault, Trick…"

Pete trails off and walks over to green-mohawk, who is now sprawled out on the hood of the car unconscious. Pete presses his palm to the boy's chest. A burning handprint singes it's way through the boy's t-shirt as he convulses, the Turning reversing itself.

As you probably gathered by now, Pete was not only Turned, he was also Marked. That's evident by the wings indelibly tattooed into the skin of his shoulder blades. He's supposed to be some kind of dark archangel, destined to save all the Turned except himself. He's tried to do so and failed.

It sucks to be Pete.

"Really, it's not your fault."

Pete now walks over to me and wraps me in a breathtaking hug. My skin tingles where he's pressed up against me.

"Shit…"

Pete whispers, barely audible.

"We should get home, guys."

Pete says, breaking our contact. I bite my lip involuntarily at his pulling away. Joe and Andy slide in the backseat with Tessa. Pete drives and I end up with shotgun on the way back home as we leave a very confused green-haired boy to wake up in the middle of the abandoned district lying on a freshly cut net.

Once we get home, I begin work on the blender mix- the "Vampire Smoothie," if you will. I cut the next part of Pete's eyeliner, add more nail polish. The blender whirs as I notice Pete sitting on the very corner of the couch. He's staring right through the colors of the TV, which is blaring NCIS- one of his favorite shows. I cut the blender and pour him a glass of Vampire Smoothie. I sit down next to Pete on the couch and hand him the cup.

"Thanks."

Pete murmurs. He has his hood pulled up and a brooding, pained expression scrawled across his handsome face.

"Pete, what's wrong?"

I ask him as he downs the Vampire Smoothie fast, like a shot of tequila.

"Trick, it's… look, I don't want you worrying."

"I'll worry more if you don't tell me what's up."

And it's true, I will. I rub my hand up and down Pete's arm comfortingly.

"Fine."

Pete relents, his voice tight.

"Just don't say I didn't warn you."

He says tersely. I nod. I rest my head on Pete's shoulder and he sighs mightily.

"Patrick, you're my Atavan Halen."

I sit bolt upright.

"Your HEAVEN-SENT LOVE?!"

I translate in a complete panic. My eyes widen with fear as I look at Pete.

"Ohmygod. Do you know what this MEANS?"

I practically yell.

"It means I have to become one of you! I have to give up humanity for you, to you! I have to fucking sacrifice myself to you to keep you alive! Pete, how could you do this to me? Why in God's name would you choose ME?"

Pete looks shocked, kind of hurt. Obviously, that was not the response he'd been expecting.

"Okay, I thought for sure it would be Ashlee, maayyybee Jeanae, but never ME! Pete…this…no!"

I stand up and my head is spinning.

I mean, who could blame me? I have a right to be fucked up over this. Being a vampire's Atavan Halen, or Heaven-Sent Love, means that your blood becomes all that the vampire craves, and it eventually becomes the only thing that will keep them alive.

(The only way to kill a vampire that's not horribly complicated and rather gruesome is by forbidding them to drink the blood of their Atavan Halen. It causes a long and painful death, the equivalent of human starvation.)

And oh, yeah, the Atavan Halen's blood has to be first taken during an act of passion.

This means that:

If I don't give Pete my blood, he'll eventually die.

When I do give him my blood, I'll become a vampire as well.

Pete can't Un-Turn me like all the other vampires because then that would make the whole Atavan Halen bloodlust process would start all over again.

And the best for last- Pete has to take my blood for the first time during an "act of passion"- and you completely know what I'm talking about.

One in every 1000 vampires has a special gift like Pete's Un-Turning. These special vampires also have to possess an Atavan Halen.

It would be just my luck that Pete would be one of these select few.

It would also be just my luck that I would end up being the one he picks.

Chapter Three-

"Now I not only have to sleep with you, but I have to let you turn me into a bloodthirsty monster _while_ I sleep with you. Perfect, Pete."

(_I know this hurts, it was meant to_)

I can tell that hurt Pete pretty bad, but I don't care right now.

"It's not that I don't love you, it's just…UGH!"

I wheel around, suddenly finding myself at the end of my eloquent streak with everything important not addressed, and quickly climb the stairs to my attic room in the house that Pete, Andy, Joe and I share. I slam the door and slump down the inside of it, starting to cry.

I hear light footsteps coming up the stairs after me.

"Fuck off, Pete."

I mumble. I cannot deal with him right now, I need a minute to compartmentalize, to prepare for the inevitable Turn. I couldn't let him suffer like that.

Pete pushes the door open gently even though I'm pressed against the other side of it. Well, that's a perk of being a vampire- the strength. Pete sits down next to me and I clench my fists.

"I'm really sorry, I don't mean to add insult to injury, but… I don't have much time before I'm going to start trying to take your blood by force."

Said blood runs cold at that. I hear heavier footsteps run up the stairs as I turn to face Pete, frightened.

"Pete… You do know that if you take my blood by force, I die?"

Pete's face goes white as Andy appears behind us.

"I found this on that site you found the smoothie recipe on, Patrick. I heard Pete mention the words "Atavan Halen" to someone last night and I thought this might come in handy."

Andy says, beginning to read off a sheet of paper in his hand.

"If the Atavan Halen submits to the vampire's physical desires, the bloodletting can be put off for a limited amount of time to let the Atavan Halen make their decision."

"Sweet."

I say dryly, venomously.

"Now I just have to sleep with a vampire perpetually until I decide whether to deprive him of my blood and kill him or let him drain me dry and make me one of them. Great."

Pete fixes me with an agonized gaze.

"What?"

I say incredulously.

"I have a right to be fucked up about this."

"You're talking about me like I'm some kind of monster. You've known me for years, Patrick. You said it yourself, you… you love me."

Pete's teeth are shifting to make room for his fangs and I tell Andy to leave. He heeds my advice.

What am I so afraid of? This is a dream come true.

"Patrick… we have to do this. I can't hold on much longer."

Pete shivers as I help him stand up and I close the door.

"I'm sorry, Pete, I really do love you… it's just-"

And I stop dead at the look in Pete's eyes. In one movement, I'm pushing Pete back onto my bed, sitting on his lap, and kissing him deeply.

"I'm not going to…let you suffer, Pete."

I murmur between Pete's fervent kisses.

"You really are too selfless, Patrick."

Pete looks me in the eyes and his gaze has changed. It's alluring now, and I blush.

"Just kiss me. I'm sure I'll regret this for the rest of my existence."

I say 'existence' instead of 'life,' because that 's irrelevant now.

Pete kisses my neck and I'm unbuttoning my shirt.

"Fuck!"

Pete pushes me backward hard, and I fall off his lap and onto the floor.

"What am I doing?!"

Pete buries his face in his hands and stands up.

"I'm hunting you like prey! I'm drawing you into me so I can go for the kill. I am _using you._"

Pete begins to cry. Oh, the irony, how the tables have turned.

"I know."

I say, and stand up to wrap my arms around him in an embrace.

"So treat me right. Be gentle, let me feel everything. Let me feel good about being used."

Pete picks me up and lays me down gently on my bed. I wipe the tears off his cheeks as he bends down to kiss me deeply.

"Oh, Pete…"

My hat and glasses are tossed somewhere below us. So are Pete's Kicks and his hoodie. The rest of our clothing soon follows.

"You really are a martyr."

Pete whispers in my ear.

"Fuck…!"

I clench my eyes shut as Pete's hips start to push back and forth.

"That's the idea, Trick…"

Pete says. I clutch at Pete's wing tattoos on his back tightly, my eyes closed and my mouth stretched open in a long moan.

"Ah!"

I give out first. Pete quickly follows, hips pulling taut, then he collapses onto the bed beside me.

I cuddle up into Pete's side as he pulls the blanket up over both of us. I notice that sometime during that mess, Pete's teeth had returned to their normal state. My heart rate is still probably dangerously high. If Pete's heart could beat, I'd imagine it would be going pretty good too.

I'm still trying to catch my breath.


	2. Seventh Sunday Part Two

I am SO sorry, you guys. For a really long time, the site wouldn't let me upload word documents for some reason. Here is your well-deserved second half of Seventh Sunday. Please tell me if you guys want me to start posting more stories on here, most likely better ones than this. I do Criminal Minds, Gabilliam, Rydon, Peterick, CSI NY, M*A*S*H... yes, I slash a lot. So if you're going to review, please tell me what kind of thing you'd like to see from me in the future! I'd really appreciate it. You all get much love for waiting out my technical difficulties.

CONTINUED-

I lean over to find my glasses in the mess of clothing on one side of my bed, and I guess the sight of my neck stretching is too much for Pete because suddenly my neck is on fire.

"AHHH!" I yell in ecstasy and agony as Pete's newly exposed fangs sink deeper into my neck and he pulls me up to face him.

It's like nothing I've ever felt before. I can feel my blood surging and pulsing towards that one excruciating point in the curve of my neck. I'm sinking my ragged nails into the smooth skin of Pete's back and my mouth is slack and gaping. Tears are pouring out of my eyes as I clench them shut. Every inch that Pete's sweaty skin is pressed against mine tingles. My heart is beating so fast that its thudding in my chest and with every pulse, color sears through my vision. Rainbows etch permanent patterns into my eyelids, and when I open my eyes I can't see anything but blinding color, I can't feel anything except that one focused pinprick that feels like a fucking bullet hole. Pete is moaning and suddenly my ears are ringing. I feel blood dripping down my neck and pure heat coursing through my ravaged veins.

And suddenly I feel everything. I can feel the air burning paths to my lungs. I can feel Pete's skin blazing against my own, I can feel the tattoos underneath my clenching fingertips. I feel my eyelids fluttering, I feel the sweat beading all over my body.

And suddenly I feel agony like I've never felt before. It's worse than any gunshot, any stab wound, any poison. I don't know how I know this, but I do.

It's like I'm hearing someone else scream like they're dying, but it's me. It's me screaming so loud and so long I can't catch my breath. This pain is crushing me, consuming me, scorching and ravishing me from the inside out.

My heartbeat is working at an inhuman pace, it's physically impossible, but somehow-

And my heartbeat stops.

I instantly surrender to the pain. I black out.

PETE POV-

I am bloodstained and sobbing. I can't even process anything right now.

I'm cradling Patrick's body in my arms and Joe and Andy walk in.

"PETE!" Joe yells and races over to me.

He wrenches me away from Patrick with all the strength in his wiry body. I'm straining against his iron hold on my arms. He's keeping them pinned behind my back, and I'm fighting, fighting, screaming "PATRICK, NO, NO, NO!!!"

Blood and tears fall to the floor as I struggle. My tears, Patrick's blood.

I killed him. I killed my Atavan Halen. I killed the only person I've ever cared about, who's ever cared about me. My best friend.

Andy stares at me in horror for a second. I avert my eyes. He rushes to Patrick's side.

Takes his pulse.

"Nothing." Andy says hollowly. "Pete, what did you do?!"

And calm, collected, practical Andy takes a mighty swing at me. His fist connects with my eye and I go down hard. I stay on the floor as he claps his hands over his mouth in horror.

"Oh, Pete, I'm so sorry."

I'm sobbing. I can't respond to him. Joe and Andy leave me there on the floor and they step towards Patrick.

"What... what do we do?"

And suddenly Patrick's sitting bolt upright, gasping for air, vomiting blood. Blood spills from his babyish lips and onto the bed, the floor. I'm standing up in a flash, I'm next to him.

He gasps one last time, "Pete!"

And he falls backward, his lips red and bloody, a line of blood marring his ashen cheek. He's breathing.

For seventy-two hours straight, I don't let go of Patrick's hand.

PETE POV

I haven't slept in three days and that's exactly how long Patrick's angelic grey eyes have been closed. I'm still wearing the same sweatshirt, with the same bloodstains. Patrick's blood. I feel sick.

My head is spinning and I remember that I didn't eat breakfast or lunch today. I drop my suddenly aching head to my chest and grasp Patrick's limp hand. I squeeze it tightly, feeling the worn fingertips and callouses made by the Stump-o-matic's strings.

A tear drips to the.. oh lord, the floor is covered in dried blood. Fuck.

I kiss the back of Patrick's hand, my tears wet and shining on his soft skin.

"You idiot."

My head whips up.

"Patrick?" I whisper hoarsely.

"You fucking idiot." Patrick says, wipes blood off his lips, and sits up. "You could have KILLED ME! What the fuck were you thinking!?"

I don't care that he probably hates me right now, I grab Patrick and hug him, vowing never to let go. Patrick slowly, jerkily grasps onto my back and lowers his head onto my shoulder.

"Pete... you're such an IDIOT."

I grin through my grateful tears and hug Patrick tighter.

"Trick, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you how sorry I was. I didn't know what I was doing until it was too late. God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this to you."

I let go of him. My hand slides down Patrick's arm and into his hand.

"You were going to anyway."

Patrick regards me with those shining grey eyes. "I sort of thought you'd try it then. Don't kill yourself over it. Maybe vampire sex is better than human."

I smile, feeling sleepless nights and teary eyes vanish.

"You may not wanna hear this, but I love you." I tell Patrick, my head slightly bowed. I'm afraid to look him in the eyes, I guess.

"I've always loved you Pete. And probably always will."

I raise my head and softly slide my lips into Patrick's. He laughs softly and opens his mouth to mine.

"After all, we've got eternity."

I say and kiss Patrick again.

PATRICK POV

Immortality. With Pete.

I could get used to this.

END


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